


Competency

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Competence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-04
Updated: 2007-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney's reached his limit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competency

“Oh, you are kidding me!” Rodney yells suddenly, coming up behind him. John feels himself spun around by rough hands, pushed against the jumper.

“Wha?” the Ancient multitool he was using on the jumper’s engines – Rodney won’t let him call it a sonic screwdriver – clatters to the ground. John gets his bearings and shoots a confused look down at Rodney’s hands, which are pressing his shoulders against the cool grey metal, then up to Rodney’s face, which is flushed and frustrated. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I have had it with you,” Rodney says, and his voice should be loud, strident, cracking, but it’s not; it’s low and rough and not quite angry and does something to John’s insides. “You and your shooting guns and your knowing about weapons systems and your manly hand-to-hand combat skills and now you’re _fixing_ the _jumper_?” Rodney spares a glance at the components John’s been working on. “Competently?” he adds, louder now.

“Um,” John tries, then stops. He opens his mouth again. “Yes?”

Rodney’s hands haven’t loosened their grip; Rodney’s broad shoulders block his escape route. He could probably break free – he does have manly hand-to-hand combat skills, darn it – but he doesn’t. Not just yet.

“Yeah, that’s the last straw,” Rodney murmurs, so quiet John can barely hear it, so quickly John can barely process it before Rodney’s kissing him, lips dragging against his, hard and wet. And John always knew they’d end up here, somehow, someday, but he never thought it’d be on a Tuesday with a dented toolbox between his feet and Rodney suddenly holding his hand, Rodney’s fingers caressing John’s palm so slowly.

Hours later, John rolls over and pins Rodney’s wrists to the bed, getting some of his own back. Rodney’s cock is soft under his, and John’s too sated himself to even think about getting hard again, so he spends a good while kissing Rodney, just for the hell of it.

“So,” John says, pulling back, keeping Rodney pinned with his hands and his knees. “Is it, what, competency? That’s what turns you on?”

Rodney flushes, his chin tilting up. John knows he’s hit his mark.

“People with skills are attractive,” Rodney mutters defensively.

John leans back down and puts his mouth next to Rodney’s ear. “You’ve got no idea what kinds of _skills_ I have,” he says, letting his lips and tongue graze Rodney’s skin.

At the answering shudder, John continues: “For example, I . . .” he pauses for dramatic effect, “can play the tuba.”

Rodney barks a laugh. “The tuba?”

“My dad taught me.”

There’s a long pause. Then: “I want to fuck you so hard,” Rodney says dryly.

“And,” John continues, licking a wet stripe up Rodney’s neck, “I can fart on demand.”

John doesn’t see the eyeroll, but he can hear it in Rodney’s voice. “Seriously: take me, stallion.”

He meets Rodney’s eyes again, and grins. “I got a million of ‘em.”


End file.
